


On And Off Again (a Klance AU)

by E_C_C_E_N_TRIC



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam (Voltron) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Artist Keith (Voltron), Bartender AU, Bartender Lance, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/M, Flower Shop Allura, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk and Shay are ENGAGED, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Shadam, Soldier Shiro, Weddings, adashi, i love it, klance, mechanic hunk, mechanic keith, mostly angst, this is so gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-01-19 19:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12416127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_C_C_E_N_TRIC/pseuds/E_C_C_E_N_TRIC
Summary: After receiving some disturbing news, Keith is determined to go out, get drunk, and forget.Lance is worried about the young man who seems to be drinking too much at the bar tonight.





	1. First Impressions and Drinks

**October 12, 2017**

Studying the intricate pipes and rather delicate wires, Keith Kogane’s eyes squinted as he hunted for anything that seemed out of place. Some of the other men had already fixed the valve and tied up the loose ends of the project, though their customer’s car still wasn't running properly. He wished Hunk were there to give him an extra pair of eyes and hands. He was their go-to man when they ran into any obstacles they weren't able to overcome themselves. Alas, Keith was on his own today. Alone, with an unsolvable problem and an extremely unsatisfied customer, who at the time, happened to be yelling at his boss not ten feet away. Keith did his best to ignore the vulgar shouts as he scanned over the engine once more. 

Mentally listing off everything he had previously checked , Keith muttered to himself, puzzled by the problem. 

When a possible solution came to mind, Keith cocked his head to the side, voicing a question to the customer all the while avoiding eye contact. 

“When was the last time you changed your oil?”

A sudden silence swept over the room as the customer’s yelling was interrupted. 

“Excuse me?” The man asked. 

“I said,” Keith spoke, turning to formally address the man who had just been verbally attacking his boss, “When was the last time you changed your oil?”

Hazel eyes shifted back and forth as the customer considered the question. The vein on his forehead seemed to have gotten bigger since the last time Keith laid eyes on him, though he didn't appear as upset now as he did just seconds ago. 

“A few months, maybe?” 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “And how many months would you label as ‘a few’?”

The man shrugged, his polo shirt scrunching up over his belt as it came a bit untucked. “About . . . 13?”

Keith had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Well there's your problem. The pipes are probably full of gunk that needs to cleaned out.”

“And how much is that gonna cost?” The man asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Nothing.” 

Keith’s response must have surprised the customer, because he blinked and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing,” Keith repeated. “It's just a matter of cleaning out the pipes at his point. I can stay overnight and do it myself. It'll be ready by morning. Stop by whenever.”

“Keith,” his boss spoke, “Are you sure?” 

Keith nodded, closing the hood of the car and walking briskly over to his tools and gathering the equipment he'd need for the overnight stay. 

He heard a muted “Thank you,” as the customer left the shop and he returned to work. Not seconds after, he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. Turning, he came face to face with his boss. Those blue eyes that were usually frozen over and guarded were now warm and welcoming. 

“Thanks,” he said genuinely, “That guy had been shoving complaints down my back for hours. Why don't you go home? Your shift ended about 15 minutes ago. I can take care of the pipe clean-up.” 

Keith shook his head. “I don't mind. I already clocked out, but I'm fine working the extra hours with no pay. I just want to get this done. Head home, Marty. Make dinner for your daughters. Kiss your wife goodnight. I'll see you on Monday.”

Hours later Keith was lying on his back underneath the car, coated in oil stains as he continued scrubbing away. He honestly didn’t mind the work. In fact, he enjoyed it. He liked coming up with solutions, then putting them into play. He was a hands-on kind of guy, and there was no better way to get your hands on it than diving in and doing the dirty work. Watching the progress coming along slowly was a bit torturous for his impatient mind, but once he was finished, the product would be something he could look at with pride. 

At around midnight, Keith felt someone nudging his legs. 

Sliding out from under the car, Keith smiled up at a familiar face.

“Hunk,” He greeted, “How’s it going?”

“Dude, you were supposed to be home three hours ago. What have you been doing?”

Accepting Hunk’s hand, Keith stood from his creeper, shoving his dirtied rag into a pocket. “Well, there was a customer that came in around eight and wouldn’t stop complaining about his car. We looked over everything that we fixed the day before, and everything was working fine but-”

“Ahh, oil change?” Hunk asked. 

Keith smirked. “Yeah. Would’ve gone a lot faster if you were there. I’m just staying tonight to work on cleaning it out for him. I’m nearly done, so I’ll head home soon. What about you? I heard you were engaged.” Keith lightly nudged the big man on the shoulder just as heat rose to Hunk’s cheeks. 

“Yeah . . .” He whispered, “I proposed just a couple days ago. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but with our work shifts, I haven’t seen you around at all.”

“True,” Keith said. “So is it that one girl you brought over here last week? What was it, Shay?”

Hunk nodded, a smile growing ever so slightly on his face. “Yup, she’s the one.”

“Congrats,” Keith said, mirroring the grin. 

“Thanks. But uhh . . . what about you?” Hunk asked, always one to get involved, “Have you been on any dates recently? Met any cute guys?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not big into dating. Besides, I’m trying to focus more on college right now. I’ve got a lot going on. Dating just isn’t a priority for me right now.”

Hunk folded his arms. “Well, maybe it should be.” His face then lit up, eyes nearly bulging out of his head and grin spreading wider than ever. Keith knew that look. Hunk just thought of a terrible idea.

“No,” Keith said before Hunk even had a chance to voice his idea, “The answer is no.”

Hunk deflated. “You didn’t even hear what I was going to say-”

“I didn’t have to, your face said it all. You just conjured up a horrendous idea.”

“Just hear me out,” Hunk pleaded. 

Sighing, Keith lowered himself back onto the creeper, ready to slide back under the car if Hunk said anything stupid. “Fine,” He muttered. 

“So, my roommate - His name his Lance - just got out of a relationship like three months ago. I’m not sure if he’s really over her yet, but I _do_ know that he’s a bit bi-curious. I could-”

Keith had already started shaking his head and placed his arms in a big “X” across his face. “No, no no no, I don’t do bi’s.”

“What?” Hunk asked, looking exasperated. “But-”

“But nothing, Hunk.” Keith said, lying down and sliding under the car. “I don’t want to commit myself to a guy who’s still juggling around his sexuality. I don’t want to make someone uncomfortable, or find out that I’m not as pretty as the girl next door that he crushed on for the first six years of his academic life.”

“But Lance is-”

“I said no but’s, Hunk,” Keith hollered, taking the rag from his pocket and getting back to work. He was only granted three seconds of silence, however, when Hunk began speaking again, defending his roommate. 

“Lance is a really nice guy, I promise. I mean, at first, yeah, he may seem a little overwhelming, but once you get to know him, you’ll love him. You have my word. Please, just one date. I’ll even pay for it! Name the place, and I’ll get you guys reservations. Really all you have to do is make a good first impression. He loves meeting new people, so it’ll be pretty easy to get on his good side. Please, Keith pleeeeease?”

Keith sighed. “I’m not good with first impressions, you know this.” Scraping out the last remains of solidified oil, Keith tried not to lose his temper with his co-worker. Hunk was the sweetest guy at the shop, and Keith knew his heart was in the right place. But dammit if that man-child wasn’t a tad stubborn at times and extended his kindness a little farther than Keith was willing to reach.

“Please?” Hunk asked again. 

“Fine,” Keith huffed, sliding out from under the car once more. He had finished cleaning up the pipes, so there was no use in hiding beneath the frame anymore. “One date. That’s it. And you’re paying.”

Hunk’s smile beamed a thousand rays of sunshine, and Keith visibly cringed. 

“One date,” Hunk agreed. “I’m paying. Just met know where and when you’d like to go. I’ll get the reservations set up.”

“How about Hell, in a million years?”

Hunk gave Keith a disapproving look. “I’m serious, Keith.”

Keith held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you know. Just give me some time to think it over.”

Hunk nodded. “Of course.”

An hour later, and Keith was quietly twisting his key into the lock of his and Shiro’s apartment. If his brother was asleep, he didn’t want to wake him. Stepping into the darkened room, Keith closed the door behind him and set his keys down on their coffee table. He then greeted their cat with a small rub of her ears and a kiss to her nose. Though, after the long night at work, Keith was exhausted and ready to crash in the comfort of his own bed. Stripping off his oil-stained shirt and tossing it in the hamper, he then proceeded to undress. Once clad in just his boxers, Keith lowered himself onto his bed, curling up in the covers and drifting off into a deep slumber.

 **October 13, 2017**

Keith awoke to claws lightly scratching at his nose and, occasionally, a rough tongue on his forehead. Rather than swiping his cat away, Keith wrapped his arms around her, tugging her into a hug. For a cat, Navi was pretty comfortable with contact. But this morning, something seemed wrong. She began hissing and clawing at Keith’s hands. 

Letting go of her, Navi leapt out of the bed, leaving Keith to wake himself up a bit more properly. Squinting his eyes against the light shining through his blinds, Keith groggily lifted himself up and out of bed. “What is it Navi? Is something wrong?” He asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

Shiro always gave him crap for talking to their cat, but Keith prefered speaking to animals rather than other human beings, so he put up with it. Grabbing a red sweater from his drawer, Keith pulled it up and over his head. He then followed Navi out of his room and into the kitchen. She probably just hadn’t been fed yet. Shiro was never very good at remembering they had a cat. Then again, Navi was great at picking favorites and avoiding anyone else, which, unfortunately, included his brother. 

“You want some food, is that it?” Keith asked, already padding across the tiled floor to get her cat food prepared. As he poured some out into her bowl, she began meowing, louder than Keith had ever heard her. 

“What is it, girl?” Kneeling down beside her, Keith rubbed his thumb over her ears, soothing her. “What’s going on?”

Navi meowed again, then took off into his room. Furrowing his brow in concern, Keith followed. 

“Navi?” He spoke, rounding the corner into his room. Navi was perched on Shiro’s bed, which was vacant at the moment. Keith relaxed a little. “He’s just at work, girl,” Keith said, “He’ll be home tonight, don’t worry.” Navi meowed again, but Keith had already returned to the kitchen to make his own breakfast. Which, naturally, consisted of toast smothered in Nutella. While smearing the chocolate spread over his toast, Keith glanced at the clock. **1:26 pm.**

“Damn,” Keith cursed. He was going to be late for work. 

Quickly eating his toast, Keith jumped in the shower, dressed himself in his usual attire: black skinny jeans, a red t-shirt and boots. He then grabbed his leather jacket from its designated hook on the wall and hurried out the door. Checking his phone for any new messages, Keith saw that he neglected to see a bunch of texts that Shiro had sent him last night, as well a few missed calls.

**Yesterday - Shiro: Hey, I was wondering if you could come home from work a bit early tonight. I have something I need to tell you.**

**Yesterday - Shiro: Keith? You’re off work now, right? Can you get home ASAP?**

**Yesterday - Shiro: You were supposed to be home an hour ago, Keith. Where are you?**

**Yesterday - Shiro: I’d really appreciate it if you’d respond to my texts.**

**Yesterday - Shiro - MISSED CALL (3)**

**Yesterday - Shiro: Keith. Please pick up your phone.**

**Yesterday - Shiro - MISSED CALL (3)**

**Yesterday - Shiro: I’d love to speak to you about this in person. It can’t wait.**

**Yesterday - Shiro: It’s getting late. I know you’re probably taking up a few extra hours of work, but please. I need to talk to you. It’s really important.**

**Yesterday - Shiro - MISSED CALL (3)**

**Yesterday - Shiro: Well . . . I have to leave now. I wrote a note for you to read. I just left it on my bed. You probably won’t see it until morning, but- if you read it tonight. I just want to say I’m sorry, and I love you little brother :’)**

Keith felt a bit panicked, and rather frazzled. He was already late for work, and didn’t know what was going on with Shiro. He debated whether or not he should hurry back inside to grab the note, but he figured if it was important enough, Shiro would have stopped by the shop before leaving. Keith decided to shoot a quick text to his brother before driving off to work. 

**Just now - Keith: Hey Shiro sorry I didn’t see your texts until this morning I’m just heading to work now what did you want to talk to me about**

Keith was pleased when he got to work and was informed that the angry customer from yesterday was satisfied with his work, and even tipped him a $50. Though his happiness soon faded into worry when throughout his six hour shift, he continued checking his phone for messages from Shiro, yet received none. When eight o’clock finally came around, Keith rushed out to his truck and drove home, eager to see the note that Shiro had left.

Parking rather clumsily, Keith yanked his keys out of the ignition and jogged inside their apartment. He hurried into their room, scrambled about Shiro’s bed and ignored Navi’s meows as he searched for the note Shiro claimed to leave. Once located, the note proved difficult to read. 

Some of the ink had smeared down the page, and what appeared to be tear stains were dotted about the entire page. Keith’s hands shook violently as he struggled to read his brother’s loose handwriting. 

_Keith,_  
I’m so sorry. I wanted to talk to you about this in person, but I guess it’s too late for that now. I wanted to have some time to explain some things before I disappeared. I wanted to tell you one last time that I love you. I know we’re not technically brothers, but . . . I never thought of you as anything less. You’re my little brother, Keith, and I’ve always tried to do my best to protect and care for you. I’ve always done everything I could to keep you safe. But now . . . it’s up to you. I have to fight for someone else now. I have to protect other people. I’ve been deported, Keith.  
They didn’t give me much time. I had 24 hours to pack my things and say goodbye. I spent about 18 of those hours trying to think of an appropriate way to tell you. I tried to think of an easy way to bear this sort of news. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of a single way that would make this better for you. I’m sorry, Keith. I wish I could’ve had more time. I wish I could’ve said goodbye.  
I know this is hard. I know this was unexpected. But I have to go. I had to leave. I’m sorry. I hope you’ll be okay on your own for a while. And if I don’t make it back . . . I love you.  
Your Brother, Takashi Shirogane 

**October 13, 2017**

Keith attempted to blink away the tears that had started to form in his eyes. Shiro . . . was gone? No, he couldn’t be. 

Fumbling for his phone, Keith desperately dialed Shiro’s number with shaky hands.

It went straight to voicemail. 

“No-” Keith whispered, voice breaking at the end. 

He dialed again. 

Voicemail. 

He dialed once more. 

“Pick up pick up pick up,” He mumbled, tears unwillingly cascading down his cheeks. “Pick up your phone, dammit!” He shouted, a tremor in his voice that had been foreign to his own ears until now. “Shiro . . . please pick up.”

Voicemail. 

Growling in frustration, Keith threw his phone onto his bed, hands running through his hair wildly. “No. No . . .” He couldn’t just be gone! 

Frantic eyes scanned their room, searching for anything that belonged to his brother. He hadn’t noticed until now that nearly everything of Shiro’s had vanished. 

Most of his clothing was still folded neatly in his drawers, but his more personal belongings - like the photo of him and his college buddies on his nightstand, the empty vodka bottles labeled by all the different states he’d been in with said college buddies, the pressed flower bracelet Allura made him from her flower shop, and the first edition comic books that Matt gave him from his store - were all gone, including the stupid stuffed lion Keith bought him as a joke for Christmas. All of his favorite things . . . were gone. And so was he. 

Keith forced his eyes closed. Forcefully wiping away his tears, he sat himself down on his bed, making sure to focus on nothing but in the inside of his eyelids. He didn’t want to see his room: not when Shiro wasn’t there. He didn’t want to look at the closet: not when Shiro’s signature letterman jacket wasn’t hanging inside. He didn’t want to see the kitchen: not when his brother wasn’t fumbling around, spilling flour all over the floor. He didn’t want to see the driveway: Not when Shiro’s car wasn’t parked on the cement He didn’t want to open his eyes, and see a world without his brother. 

Clutching the note in his hand, Keith cried, the familiar numbness in his chest becoming ten times worse. The pounding his head increasing, and the steady beat of his heart becoming irregular. He cried, knowing that Shiro was gone - that he was alone now, and may be for the rest of his life. He cried, knowing that his brother may die in the war. He cried, knowing that he may never see Shiro again.

He had to get out of here. He had to leave. 

Standing, Keith shoved Shiro’s letter into his pocket, then rushed out the door, keys in hand. He didn’t know where he was going. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be here. Not in this apartment, not without Shiro. All he knew was that he wanted to forget.

**October 13, 2017**

“We’ve got a Lemon Drop Martini for the stunning little lady up front,” Lance announced, handing the girl her drink with a lopsided grin, adding a wink for good measure. 

Her blonde bangs fell into her eyes, slightly covering up her blush as she took her drink gratefully. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Lance spoke smoothly, drowning in his customer’s giggles for a moment before turning around to gather supplies in order to mix up the next drink. “Next up, for the fellow in the dashing suit, I’ve prepared a Sex Appeal: the perfect combination of coconut and white rum, melon and curacao liqueur, and some peach flavoring to top off the sweet and sour mix. Here ya go, man.”

The young man smiled as he took his drink from Lance, who handed it over with a nod and a grin. It was quite packed tonight at _The Roaring Lions_ ( _The Roar_ for short), and Lance was tempted to take off his mandatory vest two hours ago due to the heat radiating off of all the drunk, dancing bodies. It usually got pretty hot in the bar, but tonight especially. _The Roar_ hardly ever had this many customers. Ever since the new theater opened up across the street, they’ve been getting a lot more attention at night. Friday and Saturday nights, especially. It was great for the business, but exhausting for the workers. 

A couple more hours passed, consisting of Lance and his co-worker shaking up new and old cocktails, mixing up drinks and complementing the customers. 

Now, every few nights, a customer would come stumbling in, with tear stains on their cheeks and eyes redder than a Cheery Whisky Smash. They’d plop down at the bar, mutter a request for a drink, and down one after the other until they forgot why they came in. Tonight was one of those nights. 

Lance spotted him crossing the street, and knew the guy was having a rotten night before he even opened the door to the bar and shuffled over to the counter slowly and numbly. 

“Can I just get some vodka?” He asked quietly. 

“Sure thing, buddy. Mind if I add a little twist?”

The young man shrugged, implying that he didn’t care. 

“Alright,” Lance said, smiling as he turned to prepare another drink. Pulling out a bit of grapefruit and a teaspoon of syrup, Lance mixed the ingredients together and shook it up. While working on the drink, he decided to start up a conversation, purple lights strobing on and off on the dancefloor.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here at all. This the first time you’ve been?” Lance had to shout a bit over the music. It had just reached ten o’clock - when the music gets louder, the lights get dimmer and the drinks get stronger. 

His new customer nodded, eyes refusing to meet Lance’s as they stared down at his lap. This was rather typical of this sort of customer, but after a few minutes of talking, Lance was sure he’d be able to brighten the man’s spirits. After all, he _was_ the best bartender in California. 

“That mean you new to the area?” 

The man shook his head. 

“So you just haven’t dropped by until today?” 

He nodded. 

Lance smiled. His customer hadn’t really spoken to him at all, but that was fine. The trick was to ask yes or no questions until he got a verbal answer, then ask another question that required an actual response. That was his way, and in the last year and a half of working at _The Roar,_ he found that it worked pretty damn well. Just give them some time between each question. 

Finishing up the man’s drink, Lance handed it over to him. Then, looking the newcomer up and down, Lance had to admit, he was pretty attractive. He had rather pale skin that contrasted beautifully with his dark hair, currently tied up in a rather careless, yet intriguing way. His hands were small and fitted into fingerless gloves. Lance would have poked fun at them if the man didn’t seem so down. His build was slender, yet firm, and Lance loved the way his shirt hung a bit loosely about his neck, exposing a bit more skin than necessary. 

“So. You got a name?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

“Keith,” He muttered, raising the drink Lance had mixed up for him to his lips: they were thin and looked smooth to the touch. After swallowing a sip, Keith’s expression tightened a bit, then relaxed. “God that’s good,” He whispered, taking another sip. 

Lance smiled. “Glad you like it.”

Keith then continued to down the rest of the glass, to Lance’s surprise. 

“Another,” He gasped, setting down the glass with a bit more force than necessary. 

“Alright,” Lance said hesitantly, then grabbed another glass to fill for his new customer. 

“So if you’ve never been here before, how did you hear about us?” Lance asked, determined to keep Keith talking and remain engaged in the conversation. 

Keith shrugged. “I was just driving around. I saw the lights and assumed there were drinks inside.” He then gestured to Lance. “I assumed right.”

“Just looking for a nice drink, then?”

Keith nodded. 

Lance smiled. “Well I hope you found what you were looking for.” Pouring another glass for him, Lance slid it across the counter to the customer. He remained where he was, watching with interest as Keith began drinking this one more slowly, taking leisurely sips. Lance liked the way his adam’s apple rose and fell with every swallow he took. When Keith sat without taking another sip for a while, Lance asked another question. “There a reason you were wanting to drink tonight?”

Keith’s eyes - which were a dazzling shade of purple (how was that possible?) - rolled up in the back of his head. “You have no idea,” He muttered, downing the rest of his drink. “Another.”

“Well you sure don’t know how pace yourself,” Lance said with a small chuckle, turning to prepare the same drink a third time. “I’m just wondering if you’ll be able to keep it down. I may have to stop you after this round.”

“Bring it.” Keith said challengingly. Lance rose his eyebrow at the customer. 

“Oh?” He inquired. 

“Yeah. Hit me,” Keith said, standing from his seat at the bar. He then peeled off his leather jacket and set it on the counter beside the drink Lance was mixing before sitting back down. 

Without his jacket, Lance could see Keith’s well-sculpted torso and the slight curve of his hips. He tried to focus back on the drink, but found it difficult. 

“Alright, you asked for it.” Lance said, finishing off the third drink and handing it over. He watched Keith take a couple sips, then spoke again. “Okay but really, why did you come here?”

Keith ran his hands through his hair, resulting in a few black strands falling loose from his ponytail. “I just . . . had a bad night.”

“I can see that. Something bothering you?”

Keith glared. “It’s not really your business.”

Lance held up his hands in defense. “Alright, I’ll drop it.”

For the next 15 minutes, Lance helped some of the other customers, though kept a watchful eye on Keith. When the guy asked for yet another drink, Lance had to refuse. 

“Sorry, but I’m getting kind of worried. You haven’t even been here for an hour yet and you’ve already consumed three vodka’s. After a couple hours, maybe I’ll give you another, but I don’t want you throwing up all over the bar. You’re having a bad enough night already. Wait for the alcohol to kick in.”

And about ten minutes later, that’s exactly what happened. 

Keith had started humming along to the music that played overhead as he nodded his head to the beat. Lance watched, amused, as Keith’s smile grew wider as the night went on. He seemed a lot more relaxed and appeared to be having fun. 

“I’m glad you’re looking better now than you did when you came in,” Lance hollered over the music. 

“What?” Keith yelled, leaning over the counter. 

Lance’s grin grew bigger. “I said, I’m glad you’re feeling better!”

Keith nodded, “Hell yeah I am. Have you ever tried this?” He held up one of the glasses Lance had filled for him just minutes ago. “It’s amazing!” He moved to drink more, but only received a small remaining drop of alcohol. Frowning down at his empty glass, Keith stared. 

 

After a minute of silence, Lance asked, “Are you alright?” 

Keith eyes shot up from the glass to look at Lance. “It’s empty. But- look.” Keith held up the glass to his eye, peering through it to stare at the bartender. The bottom of the glass created a kaleidoscopic effect on the stranger’s beautiful violet eyes. “There’s like . . . a gagillion of you.” Keith whispered in awe, slowly lowering the glass. Then he smiled, leaned over the counter and touched his finger to Lance’s nose. 

Keith giggled. “Now there’s only one.”

Lance swallowed, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. He had been wondering for a few minutes what type of drunk Keith would be. Turns out he’s an adorable, oblivious one with no filter and big doe eyes that managed to melt every bone in Lance’s body. 

Leaning forward, Lance mirrored Keith’s actions, booping his finger against the young man’s nose. “And one of you, too.” He said with a smile. 

Keith’s mouth twisted into the most dazzling smile Lance had ever seen, his eyes scrunching up adorably from the effort. 

“You’re really pretty.” Lance blurted, then immediately regretted it. 

“Yeah?” Keith asked, taking another dry sip from his empty glass. “Thanks. I think you’re pretty too.”

Now it was Lance’s turn to grin. “You really think so?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah. You look like a fucking angel with all these blue lights swirling around.” Keith gestured wildly about the bar at the lights cascading down from above. “An angel.” He repeated. 

Lance’s smile grew as he wondered if the heat rising from his heart could possibly leave permanent damage to his body. He figured that if it did, it’d be worth it if he could see Keith’s smile one more time. “Thanks,” He said. 

Minutes passed in silence as the night continued. Lance kept checking his wristwatch periodically, knowing that eventually the time would come to close the bar for the night. Already people were starting to leave in pairs, singing as they left, arms around each other. Lance always made sure that everyone had a designated driver, and wondered if anyone was coming to pick up Keith. After a few moments, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Glancing down the bar toward Keith, Lance suddenly froze. 

Some girl had struck up a conversation with him. 

With bleached blonde hair, makeup that contrasted perfectly with the lights above and the body of a swim suit model, no wonder she had caught Keith’s attention.

Eyes lingering, Lance noticed the way she leaned toward Keith while laughing, getting a bit too close for his comfort. Keith didn't seem to mind, however. In fact, he was leaning, too. More so than the woman, actually. And when she whispered something in his ear, he giggled and rested his forehead on her slender shoulder, cheeks flushed and grin wide. Lance wondered what they could possibly be talking about. 

Wandering down the car as casually as he could, Lance tried to pick out their words. 

“-back to my place.”

Jaw tightening, Lance began scrubbing the table with quite some force. 

Keith nodded with laughter, sparking a few more jealous nerves within Lance’s body. 

“And?” Keith asked. 

“And then see where the night takes us,” she said, “Maybe grab some dinner, steal a few kisses and, if I'm lucky, I won't wake up alone.” 

Lances grip tightened on the rag he was holding, eyes flickering up to see Keith’s reaction. 

He was smiling. 

And nodding. 

“Yeah, that sounds really nice,” he agreed. 

“Alright,” she said, and those two syllables contained more hidden messages than Lance thought was possible. Her voice laced together so soothingly, he wondered if he would ever be able to compete with a girl like that. 

Stepping in, Lance decided to just do his job. 

“You guys have a ride for the night? Or should I call a taxi?”

The blonde gazed up at Lance and - _of course_ \- she had the greenest, richest eyes Lance had ever seen. 

She shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing hypnotically. “I haven't had a single sip tonight. I'm my own ride. I don't know about him, though.” She gestured to Keith. “He may need some help.” She dropped a wink at Lance, and, with that, grabbed her purse and left the bar.

Lance glanced back and forth between the door and Keith, confusion apparent on his features. “Weren't you going with her?” He asked. 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “No?” He said, “Why would I do that?”

Lance shrugged. “It just sounded like you two were planning on leaving together.” 

Keith's mouth slowly tugged into a smile. “Nah. She was wanting advice. She noticed my bracelet and thought I'd be able to help without judging her.” Keith held up his wrist, displaying his bracelet that Lance had failed to notice before. It was simple. A leather band with six different colored beads. A rainbow. “She said she'd been in the closet for a while now, and wondered if the gay bar down the street would welcome her. I said of course, and she just asked if she'd have a chance with any of the girls over there. I was just helping. Hopefully after tonight she'll have a girlfriend. Or at least a one night stand with someone she feels comfortable with.” 

“Oh.” Lance said, feeling a bit sheepish as he attempted to brush off the last of his unjustified jealousy. “So . . . you've never been here, but you've been to gay bar?” 

Keith nodded. “Place is amazing. They play really good music, too. Though the bartenders aren't as cute.” 

Lance blushed. “Oh?”

“Yeah. But at least over there I know I have somewhat of a chance. All the guys there are far from straight,” Keith explained, taking another sip from his still empty glass. 

Lance found himself smiling. He couldn't believe his luck. 

Keith set his glass down and slowly slid it across the table toward Lance, placing his cheek down on the bar. “Can I get another one please?” He asked, eyes shining up at him through the lights. 

“Sure thing, buddy,” Lance said with a grin. He began preparing it right away, feeling much lighter than he had a couple minutes ago. 

Time passed rather slowly, much to Lance’s pleasure. It was thrilling to see the the way Keith’s actions progressed as the night continued. 

After a couple more drinks, Keith stood up abruptly, eyes wide and arms tossed in the air. “I LOVE THIS SONG,” he shouted, grabbing Lance’s hand from across the bar. “C’mon!” 

Keith tugged Lance toward him, causing him to bump into the bar. “Whoa- what?” He questioned, table digging into his stomach as Keith continued to pull on his arm. 

“Come heeeeerreee,” Keith pleaded, “Dance with me.”

Lance glanced over at his coworker, who nodded and gestured for him to go. Grinning, Lance hopped up onto the bar and slid over it, gripping Keith’s hand. It was sweaty and gross, but Lance didn't mind. In fact, he loved it. 

Dragged onto the dance floor, Lance laughed as Keith began banging his head to the music and flapping their arms up and down. Lance had heard this song before. It played a lot at the bar and had easily made it onto Lance’s oh-my-god-not-this-song-again list. Though after tonight, he wondered if he'd ever be able to stop listening to it. Not when the only thing he could picture while the lyrics blared in his ears was Keith’s shimmering eyes and flashing smile. Not when the only thing he could image while the beat thumped in his veins was leaning forward and pressing his lips against Keith’s in a gentle, yet heated kiss. 

It suddenly became Lance’s favorite song. 

“You really know how to dance,” Lance said sarcastically, his smile growing with every bang of Keith’s head. 

“Are you kidding me?” Keith shouted with a giggle, “I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing.”

Lance laughed, wrapping his arms around this captivating stranger that had so wonderfully appeared into his life. He took a step forward, engulfed in Keith’s beauty and drowning in his every move. With his arms snaked about Keith’s waist and Lance’s hips brushing against his, it was all Lance could do not to close the space between them completely. Keith's hands raised up to Lance’s face, cupping his cheeks and sending a burst of flames down Lance’s back. 

“Your skin is really soft,” Keith whispered, eliciting a small chuckle from Lance. 

“Thanks. You . . . You're really . . . Wow,” Lance breathed, grasping for words that were fumbling about his brain. He struggled to find the right thing the say, yet came up blank. 

“Yeah . . .” Keith said, “Wow.”

The two of them continued dancing for about three more songs before Keith dragged them back to the bar, taking a sip from his drink and plopping down on a seat. 

“Did you know that I have a cat?” Keith asked. 

“Oh yeah?” Lance asked, scooting a seat over so he could sit as close to Keith as possible. 

The young man nodded. By now, with all the dancing and head banging, Keith's ponytail had completely fallen out. Lance had been kind enough to pick up his hair tie, though he wore it on his own wrist.

“Mhmm. She's beautiful, and her name is Navi. She's pretty quiet, but recently- she's been making a lot of noise.”

Lance’s eyes softened as he leaned closer to Keith, mindlessly resting his hand atop of his customer's. “And why's that?” He asked. 

Keith fell silent. 

Staring down at his drink, his face fell, shoulders slumping. 

“I think it's because my brother left,” he said softly - softly enough that Lance didn't hear over the music. 

“Huh?” Lance asked, leaning forward to hear better. 

Keith sniffed, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth. “I said I think it's because my brother left.” He repeated, louder this time. 

Lance's heart fell. 

“He just- disappeared,” Keith said hysterically, “Left a note on his bed explaining that he got deported. He didn't even say goodbye.” Keith laughed. “What a dick move, right?” 

Tears began building up in his eyes. Lance's hand tightened over Keith's. 

“Hey,” he said softly, “Are you alright?”

Keith shook his head as tears began slipping down his cheeks, yet he continued to laugh. “Why wouldn't I be? My only brother just _left_ me. Alone. He just disappeared. And now I’m on my own, for who knows how long. No parents, no brother, no nothing. I’m alone.” Keith wiped away one of his falling tears. “He could be dead by now. He didn’t even say goodbye-”

“Oh God,” Lance muttered, standing to wrap Keith up in a hug. “I . . . I’m so sorry.”

Keith buried his face in Lance’s chest. “You smell really good. Like peaches.”

Lance ran his hands through Keith’s hair soothingly. “That’s probably my chapstick.” Then, lifting him up from his seat, Lance said, “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Keith shook his head. “No. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to.” He wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist. “Please don’t make me go.”

“The bar’s closing soon,” Lance explained, “You’re gonna have to go. C’mon.” Lance began tugging Keith toward the door, making sure to grab his leather jacket. Glancing over his shoulder, Lance made eye contact with his co workers. “You guys okay to close by yourselves? I’m gonna make sure he gets home safely.”

“Yeah of course,” Derek said, “We can handle it. Night, dude.”

“Night guys.” Lance said, half-carrying Keith out the front door. The music faded as the two of them gradually got farther away. The fall night air was chilly, yet a blessing compared to the heat inside the bar. Lance welcomed the breeze, thankful for the crisp air. 

“Did you bring a car here?” Lance asked, glancing about the parking lot. 

Keith nodded, but didn’t elaborate. 

“Which one is it?” Lance inquired. 

Keith raised a hand, but only pointed back at the bar. “I left my jacket . . .”

“No you didn’t, I grabbed it for you. Which car is yours?”

Keith glanced up at Lance in awe. “You have my jacket?”

“Yeah, it’s right here.” Lance held it up. Then, realizing that Keith was probably cold, he slipped the sleeves onto him, making sure it fit him snuggly. “Now, which car is yours?” Lance tried again. 

“Warm . . .” Keith whispered, leaning into Lance as he tugged his jacket on tighter. Then he pointed at am old, rusted truck. It looked red, though he couldn’t be sure in the dark. 

“Alright, c’mere.” Lance said, holding Keith close as he helped him over to his truck. “You have the keys?” 

“Front pocket,” Keith muttered lazily. 

Lance waited for him to dig them out himself, and when he didn’t, Keith repeated himself. 

“Front pocket.”

“O-kay . . .” Lance said hesitantly, slipping his hand into Keith’s left pocket and awkwardly shifting his fingers around. Hands finding an object, he pulled it out, only to find that it was a pocket knife. “What in the-”

“Wrong pocket,” Keith mumbled. 

Placing the knife back in Keith’s pocket, Lance switched sides. Finally finding his keys, along with his phone, the bartender lead Keith over to his truck, trying a couple keys before discovering the right one. Opening the door and helping Keith inside, Lance made sure that his seat belt was secure before closing the door and hopping into the driver’s seat. By then, Keith had managed to fall asleep. Unlocking Keith’s phone proved to be easy, seeing as how it was an older model. Lance opened up his messages and tapped on the first name that appeared - some guy named Shiro. 

**Just now - Keith: hey this is lance mcclain i’m the bartender at the roar. I’m just letting u know that ur buddy keith came into our bar 2night and drank a bit much. I’m kinda worried, and was just wondering if there wuz a place i could take him for the night? I jus want him 2 b safe, thnx :)**

Starting up the truck, Lance pushed a few buttons and turned a few knobs before finding the heater, then the lights. He also managed to turn the radio on, making sure that it was soft enough so as to not disturb Keith. 

Five songs later and Lance still hadn’t gotten a response from Keith’s phone. He debated whether or not he should try texting someone else, but didn’t want to invade too much of the guy’s privacy. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to take Keith back to his place so he could crash for the night. Besides, his roommate, Hunk, worked graveyards shifts, and wouldn’t be home until around seven in the morning anyway. 

Slowly backing out of the parking lot, Lance started on the memorized route back to his apartment.

Perhaps under differents circumstances, Lance would have felt like the luckiest man alive. He picked up a hell of a guy at the bar, and said guy was going to stay the night as his place.He should have been excited. Thrilled. Aroused and ready to sprawl over his sheets and roll around all night. Instead, all he could do was worry. Keith had consumed _a lot_ of alcohol tonight. He had ended up in tears, and was hardly in any condition to walk, much less drive or engage in any sexual activities. 

Stealing a glance at the passenger seat, Lance smiled at Keith’s sleeping form. “Don’t worry, buddy,” He said fondly, “I’ll make sure you get home safely in the morning.”

After a few minutes, Keith stirred awake.

“Wh-where are we?” He asked groggily, messy hair sticking up this way and that. 

“No worries,” Lance reassured, “I bringing you over to my apartment. You can crash there until you sober up. I’ll get you some snacks and some water when we get there.”

“Oh,” Keith said softly, eyes staring out at the lights that blurred past. “Wait. Are you . . . did you kidnap me?”

“I just want to make sure you’re safe,” Lance said, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Are you gonna kill me?” Keith asked.

“No,” Lance said with a small smile, “Why would I kill you?” 

“So you could eat my remains,” Keith said with hardly any hesitance. 

Lance stole a confused glance at the passenger. “Eat you?”

Keith nodded, playing with the zipper on his leather jacket, zipping it up, then back down multiple times. “You know, like . . . you could take all the items off my dead body and store my meat in your basement.” Keith dropped his zipper, eyes widening as he looked over at Lance. “Are you gonna eat me?”

“Keith, no,” Lance said, turning on the blinker before taking a right turn. “I’m not going to eat you. I’m just making sure you’re safe.”

“That’s exactly what you would say if you were planning on eating me.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at him. Crazy how streetlights can make someone’s silhouette appear twenty times more attractive. “Alright. I’m gonna eat you,” he said.

Keith sighed, leaning back on the head rest. “I fucking knew it,” He muttered. 

Lance stifled a laugh, turning his attention back to the road. “You’re not going to do anything about it?” He asked, if only to keep the conversation going. 

Keith shrugged with his entire body. “I guess not. But just so you know I probably taste like shit.”

Lance smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A few minutes passed in silence before Keith started singing along to the radio. He was extremely off tune, and was getting half the words wrong, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, so Lance turned up the volume and joined in. 

“Thunda . . . feel the thunda-” 

“Lightning and the thunder,” Lance harmonized, loving the way Keith’s words slurred together and morphed into laughter as the song continued. Once it ended, and another song began playing, Lance nearly jumped out of his seat when Keith gasped. 

“OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SONG!!!” He shouted, bouncing up and down in his seat and slapping the dash in front of him for good measure.

No lyrics had begun to play, but Keith had already blasted the radio and was shaking the car.

Lance was pretty sure he had heard the song before but couldn’t tell for sure. It wasn’t until Keith reached over and smeared his hand across Lance’s face whilst belting the lyrics that he realized what song it was.

“The boy I love’s got another girl . . . he might be fucking her right now. I don’t have an apartment, thought if I was smart I’d make it far but, I’m still at the start-” Keith braced both hands on Lance’s arm before rocking back and forth, “Guess I’m contaaaaagious, I’d be safest if you ran - FUCK, that’s what they all just end up doin’ in the end- Take my car and paint it black, take my arm break it in half- say something, do it soon- IT’S TOO QUIET IN THIS ROOM, I NEED NNNOOOIIIISSEEE-”

Lance struggled to keep the wheel straight as he burst into laughter, joining Keith in the chorus as they belted out K. Flay. Lance was impressed - Keith definitely knew every word, even when drunk off his rocker.

By the time he parked in front of his apartment, Lance had nearly gone deaf from how loud Keith had been singing in his ear, not to mention all the cars that had decided to honk at them (which, much to their dismay, received nothing but a rude gesture from Keith and a crooked grin from Lance). 

“Alright here we are,” Lance said, turning off the radio, lights, and cutting the ignition. He stepped out of the driver’s seat and hurried over to open Keith’s door, helping him out of the truck and into his apartment. Leading his guest through the door, Lance helped him out of his jacket and hung it up for him before grabbing a cup of water and some saltines. 

“You’re really nice,” Keith said, plopping himself onto the couch. 

“Uhh . . . thanks.” Lance said. Then, “Here’s some water, and something to eat. Why don’t you snack for a while, then I can take you to bed?”

“Okay,” Keith muttered, taking the water from Lance and stealing a few sips. “God, this is good water. Where’d you get it?” 

“The fridge,” Lance answered, sitting down on the couch next to Keith. Apparently Keith took that as a sign to cuddle. Leaning into Lance, Keith munched on his crackers and sipped his water, head resting on Lance’s shoulder. 

“What if my blue is someone else’s red?” Keith asked after a few moments of silence. 

“What?”

“I mean, what if the sky is blue for me, and it actually looks blue, but when someone else looks at the sky, since their eyes are different, what if they see red, instead of blue? And then everything that’s blue for me is red for them . . . but they think it’s blue, because that’s just what they were told. They were told that the sky is blue. So they think that red is blue but really, for them it’s just . . . blue. But it’s actually red.”

Silence fell over the two boys while Lance tried to process exactly what Keith was saying. One he understood, all he could think to say was, “Holy shit . . .”

“Right?”

“And like, what if someone saw tan as green? So everyone they saw were just different shades of green, but that was normal for them, and they thought that color was tan?”

“Damn,” Keith said, shoving a saltine in his mouth. “That’s crazy.” He then gasped, perking up and staring at Lance like a deer in headlights, spewing cracker crumbs from his mouth as he spoke, “Do you think we could switch eyeballs and see?!”

“Umm, no.” Lance said decidedly. 

Keith deflated. “Oh. You’re right.”

Once Keith had finished his crackers and drank the last of his water, Lance lifted him to his feet, and lead him down the hall, into his room. He would have been embarrassed about having his dirty clothes lying around in heaps, but with Keith as intoxicated as he was, Lance was sure he wouldn’t even notice, much less say anything about it.

Keith began leaning forward to lay down on his bed. 

“Ahh, no- not yet. You’ve got - what is that, oil? - all over you. I don’t want that on my sheets. Let’s get you changed. I have some spare sweats and some shirts you can borrow. Here. Lift your arms.”

Keith groaned, but obliged nonetheless, lifting his arms up and over his head. 

Grasping the hem of Keith’s shirt, Lance easily slid it off his pale skin, chuckling lightly at the yelp of surprise Keith let out. Folding up Keith’s shirt, Lance turned to place it neatly on his desk. Before he knew it, Keith’s arms were snaking about his waist, his bare chest pressing against Lance’s back. He could feel Keith’s breath tickling the back of his neck, and tried not to let himself become too distracted.

“Whatcha doin’?” Lance asked, cursing the slight crack in his voice.

He nearly _felt_ Keith’s lips twisting into a smile on his skin. “You’re really warm . . .” He whispered, breath hot against Lance’s neck. 

“Uh-huh,” Lance squeaked, twisting out of Keith’s embrace, “And so are you,” He managed. _Hot. You’re so hot-_ Blinking, Lance forced his eyes to focus on anything other than Keith’s smooth skin, the way his hips formed a perfect V line, or the occasional beauty mark on his shoulder or hip. He tried not to let his eyes wander too far, but found it extremely difficult.

“Uhh . . .” Lance murmured, feeling his mouth begin to dry, “Pants. Your pants. Right.” Lance shook his head, stepping forward to reach for Keith’s belt. Though, while doing so, Keith had stepped back playfully, violet eyes challenging Lance to some sort of game. 

“Keith,” Lance said warningly.

The most mischievous grin spread across Keith’s lips and- dammit if that wasn’t the most attractive thing Lance had ever seen.

“Keith- _don’t-_ ” Before Keith had a chance to turn and run, Lance lunged forward and took hold of his belt. “Ha!”

A look of surprise flashed across Keith’s features before melting into something more . . . suggestive. “Oh-” Keith said, raising a thick eyebrow as he took a step closer to Lance, lips twisting into a smirk. “I see where this is going.”

“Wha- no, I-” Lance fumbled over his words, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as Keith continued to get closer, his hand wandered atop of Lance’s and pressing it closer to his crotch. “I was just-”

“Mhmm,” Keith hummed, his free hand roaming up Lance’s shirt and sliding against his tan skin. “You were just what?”

Lance froze in place, feeling the heat of his pounding heart travel through his veins and right down to- _Oh God._

“Keith,” Lance breathed, “You’re drunk.”

Keith nodded into Lance’s neck, his dark hair tickling the man’s skin. “I know,” He said softly, pulling his arms back to himself. “I’m also really tired . . . and horny.”

“I can see that,” Lance said, stepping away slowly and leading Keith to the bed. “Here.” Fumbling with Keith’s belt, Lance finally managed to undo it, then tried, as casually as possible, to unbuttoned and zip down his jeans while Keith’s hands continued to roam across his skin, his pointed nose burying in the crook of Lance’s neck. Focusing on getting his guest into more appropriate sleepwear, Lance slid Keith’s skinny jeans down to the floor, exposing his black boxers. “Step,” he said, gently lifting Keith’s foot so he could slip off his boot, then the other, then his pants. “Alright you can sit down for now. I'll get you some spare clothes.” Lance set Keith down in his bed, then wandered to the dresser. Shuffling through some of his t-shirts, Lance plucked out a blain blue one that had gotten a bit small on him. Tossing it onto the bed beside Keith, he then searched for some sweats, digging out a pair of light grey ones from the bottom of his drawer. 

“Here ya go,” Lance said, stepping back over to Keith. He helped him into his sweats, then struggled to tug on his shirt over Keith’s torso as the drunken man attempted to sink into the sheets as fatigue began to take over. “C’mon, lift your arms,” Lance pressed. 

Keith moaned, shoving his face into Lance’s pillow, twisting his legs up in the sheets in the process. 

“Keith, c’mon.” Lance said, “It gets cold at night and I don't want you to freeze. Come here.”

“I just wanna sleep,” Keith muttered, voice muffled by the pillow. 

“I know. You can sleep after you put a shirt on.” Crawling onto the bed next to Keith, Lance gently guided Keith’s wrist through one of the armholes, then the other. Tugging it over Keith's head, Lance made sure it fit snugly before moving the sheets over Keith’s body and tucking him in. After he saw to Keith, Lance wandered into the bathroom to take a warm, relaxing shower. 

Once done, he dried himself off, slipped in his pajamas and shuffled to his couch to prepare his bed for the night. Laying out a few blankets over the cushions and propping a pillow up on the armrest, Lance flipped off the lights in the front room, then went back to check on Keith once more. 

The man had completely passed out. With his arms wrapped about a pillow and sheets twisted about his legs, Keith looked like an adorable child who had fallen asleep during a movie. Lance smiled, admiring the way Keith’s hair splayed over the sheets and the way his mouth hung slightly open. 

“Goodnight, stranger,” Lance whispered fondly, “I'll see you in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! If you find any mistakes or have any advice on how I could make it better - PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!


	2. Letters and Misunderstandings

**October 14, 2017**

The room seemed to sway under Keith’s feet as he stumbled out of an unfamiliar bed. The walls were painted a different color than he remembered, and the design of the room didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like he was home. Even the way the light peeled into the room from the window seemed off. 

Recollections of the night before didn’t surface in his mind until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

Baggy, grey sweats. 

A blue t-shirt.

The cute bartender.

He _wasn’t_ at his apartment.

Running his hands through smooth, dark hair, Keith took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves - still buzzing from the alcohol in his system. 

Padding his way down the hall, Keith stole a glimpse at the clock hanging up in the bathroom. It was almost six in the morning. Early. Way too early. 

“Umm . . . hello?” Keith called out quietly. He wondered what exactly had happened last night, though was a little terrified to try and recollect all of it. He remembered the note, written by Shiro. He remembered crying, and driving a little too fast. He remembered the flashing lights of the bar, the smell of alcohol. He remembered the music, and the boy he danced with. The kind, beautiful boy. The nameless stranger who took Keith back to his apartment and gave him crackers and water. The mesmerizing way he moved, and the effortless way he mixed drinks behind the bar. 

Keith definitely remembered _him._

“Hello?” Keith tried again, peeking around the corner to see light spilling over the room. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

When Keith saw him, a soft, small smile found its way to his lips. 

“Hey,” he whispered, maneuvering his way about the apartment to stand across from his host. He was behind the kitchen counter, hands planted firmly on the marble of the table and head downcast. “I didn’t think you’d be awake,” Keith said, eyes roaming across the bartender. He seemed to be considering something, his crimson blue eyes darting about here and there, shining from the fluorescent lights. He looked concerned. Guarded. Keith wondered how long he had been awake. Or if he had even slept at all.

“Is something wrong?” Keith asked. He was worried that maybe he had done or said something wrong last night while intoxicated that he couldn’t remember this morning.

His worries grew when his host’s eyebrows furrowed. Blue eyes shifted to the floor. “Your jacket . . .” He mumbled.

Keith cocked an eyebrow at him. “What about it?”

The boy’s lips pursed together. His eyes refused to meet Keith’s, and when he spoke, there was a small choke that he seemed to be holding back. “In the pocket . . . I saw it. The letter. I saw it. I read it. I’m sorry . . .” His fists clenched on the countertop, turning white. Slouched over and unwilling to face Keith head on, he looked vulnerable. Pathetic. 

“You . . . you read the letter?” Keith asked, hearing the unintentional clip of his voice. Hearing the heat in his tone. The voice he uses when he’s upset. The voice he can’t hide when he’s angry. “The letter from my _brother?_ You read it?”

There was a slight flinch in the boy’s posture, one that Keith wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so obsessed with every damn curve of this boy’s body.

“Keith, I’m sorry-” He started, finally gazing up at him to reveal tear-filled eyes. 

Keith took a step back, feeling his chest constrict with pain. There was a pricking in his heart that, last night, he had completely forgotten about. It was back now, and it stung. “That was private!” He shouted, surprising himself with the harsh tone he had taken on. “That was private . . .”

“Keith, listen-”

“No!” Keith shook his head, retreating yet another step. “That was a personal letter! One from my brother! It was private! It was for me - my eyes only! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Keith felt unbidden tears springing into his eyes. He then felt angry. Angry because he wasn’t careful enough with the letter. Angry because this boy - this boy that he thought he had a chance with - saw it. Angry because now this boy knows his problem, in details. Angry because this bartender knows how broken he really is, and won’t stay long enough to try and fix him, like everyone else before him. Angry because he was crying, and afraid. Afraid that everything was falling apart, once again. Over and over again, like it always did. 

“Keith, please! I’m sorry, I just- I saw it and, I was curious-”

“So you prodded around my personal items?” Keith snapped, feeling the anger boil over into rage. At this point, he was too terrified to think his words through. Everything he said was impulsive. Fake. Defensive. “You dug around my clothes?! What the hell? What else did you do, sniff me in my sleep? I already know you undressed me, you fucking pervert-”

 _“Keith,_ let me explain-”

“Explain _what?”_ Keith yelled, “That you borrowed my truck, took me back to your place while I was _drunk,_ undressed me in your room and read through my personal letters?! How do you explain that?” Keith had already started stomping back into the stranger’s bedroom, where he grabbed his belongings off the dresser. It would be better to leave now, before he caught any more feeling for this stranger. It’d be better to step away, before he completely exploded. Before he cracked one more time, and was impossible to put back together. 

The bartender followed him the whole way, waving his arms about and trying to explain himself. But Keith wasn’t listening. It was kind of hard to, especially when the walls were starting to tilt, and every sound was blaring in his ears. His vision was blurry from the tears, and he was starting to feel the weight of the world come crashing down on him.

It was hard to focus when he was angry, depressed, and hungover. 

“Keith, listen to me!” 

“Fuck off!” Keith yelled, pushing past the bartender and making his way to the front door of the apartment. He wiped his tears away with frustration, just praying he could make it out the door before he fucked everything up. The way he always did. 

“What the hell, man?!” His host shouted back, “I was _worried_ about you! I just wanted to make sure everything was okay, why are you attacking me?”

Keith whirled around, eyes fierce and full of fire. “Why am _I_ attacking _you?!”_ He huffed out an angry scoff of a laugh. “You’re hilarious. Says the one who nearly raped me and ransacked my personal stuff-”

“WHAT THE FUCK, I didn’t rape you!” He cursed, “Why are you getting so defensive? What’s your fucking problem?!”

Alright, Keith had to admit - that last bit just sprung from his lips unbidden. He didn’t mean a word he said. He wanted to take it back. Grasp it from the air before it could do permanent damage. But after hearing the next words that left the bartenders mouth, all of his guilt vanished, and warped into more hatred. 

“So your brother’s gone-” He shrieked, “Newsflash: So are hundreds of other people’s brothers! You’re not the only one who was affected by this! There’s a war going on, everyone knows that! Everyone knows that people are dying! It’s not personal at all - It’s not all about you and your fucking brother!” 

Keith’s gaze lowered at the bartender. There were still tears brimming in his eyes, though Keith didn’t care. They may both be crying, but he was _bleeding._ He had been for years. A gaping hole in his chest that he could never fill. A hole left by his mother, who abandoned him when he was just a baby. A hole that was just ripped a thousand times bigger by Shiro, who disappeared to go fight in the war - who may never come back. Shiro, who turned into his mother. A liar. A careless idiot. There was a hole in his chest, that, last night, seemed to be fine: it felt as if it was mending. Yet, this morning, seemed as though it was filled by something temporary. Something Keith was stupid enough to give away. It felt like it had only been filled by a knife, that now, was twisting through his chest and carving away at his skin. 

And it was _his_ fault. 

This person he trusted. 

This stranger he fell in love with, for just a night. 

This beautiful, menacing stranger that turned out to be just like everyone else. 

A liar. 

A selfish being. 

A curious hand of the devil. 

He was just like _them._

Keith shook his head, slowly backing away from the young man.

“You’re an ignorant fuck, you know that?” Keith asked, stepping toward the door to let himself out. 

“What does that make you?” The young man tried, “A manipulative fuckboy who doesn’t care about anyone but himself?! Or how about a rotten little hoe who can’t keep his fucking liquor down?!”

“Shut up,” Keith warned, hand inches away from yanking the door open and letting himself out into the crisp early morning air. Air that he desperately needed. Air that would dry away his tears, and suffocate his lungs with life. 

“Or what? You’ll find some other bartender to fuck up?”

Keith placed his hand on the doorknob, turning it to let himself out. Outside, where he didn’t have to hear any more yelling. Outside, where he could look at the stars - the same stars his mother studied before she vanished. The stars that Shiro was obsessed with. Outside, where there was nothing. Outside, where he could be alone. Where he could be free. He wanted out. He wanted to escape. He _needed_ to get out. He needed to breathe.

“You know,” The bartender started, his voice taking on a softer tone than before, “There are people who care. You don’t have to go through this alone. But if you’re going to be a little bitch baby about it, then consider myself crossed off the list. We all have problems. Go sort them out.”

Keith’s eyes closed, then. Softly, letting a tear slip down each cheek, and to the floor. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. Trying not to burst.

“I never asked for your help,” He said, in a low, dangerous tone, “I don’t need it, and I certainly don’t want it.” 

With that, he rushed out the door. Slamming it on his way out, he yanked the door of his truck open and angrily started up the ignition. He drove nearly 20 over the speed limit the entire time he tried to navigate himself home from the unfamiliar area, though was lucky enough to not get pulled over. By the time he pulled into his driveway, the sweats he was still wearing were covered in tears, and all he could taste was the salt from his eyes, and the blood from chewing on the inside of his cheek - an angry habit he had yet to break. 

When he made it to the safety of his apartment, he screamed. 

He wailed. 

He threw pillows and kicked the couch until he couldn’t feel his foot anymore. 

He collapsed to the floor and cried until Navi soothed him to sleep with her gentle, familiar purrs and soft fur nestled into his neck.

**October 14, 2017**

Lance was baffled. 

He didn’t understand why Keith had gotten so defensive. He didn’t understand why they had started yelling. 

He didn’t know why he cared. 

Huffing as he plopped down on the couch, Lance crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the television screen in front of him. It was nearly seven o’clock, so his roommate would be home soon. 

Usually, when Lance woke up and had the place to himself, he’d turn on Netflix and mindlessly waste away hours of his life until his roommate returned. Usually, he’d pop popcorn, kick back and relax. But today was different. Today he was angry. 

Lance had just recently come to terms with being bisexual. He had finally come around to accepting himself for who he was, and had even become comfortable enough with his sexuality to begin hitting on some guys at the bar. He was finally starting to get used to it - and he loved it. Then he met Keith. 

Keith. With his intoxicating, impossibly violet eyes. Keith, with his perfect hips and sculpted muscles. Keith . . . the definition of perfection. 

Keith, the absolute fuckhead who stormed out of his apartment, leaving tears in Lance’s eyes. 

Last night, Lance thought that maybe he had found someone he could be with. He thought he had found someone worthy enough to replace her- no. Not replace. _Surpass._ >Lance thought that Keith was better than her. He was convinced. Sure, it was obvious that Keith had some issues he needed to work out - everyone did. Yet, Lance was willing to help. He _wanted_ to help. That’s why, when he saw the letter, he didn’t stop reading. 

He should have.

He should have put it back. He shouldn’t have touched it in the first place. 

And yet . . . he was glad he didn’t. At first, anyway. 

He thought that it would be a good thing. That they could talk about it. He wanted to hear about Keith and the struggles he was going through. He wanted to help him through it. He wanted to be a part of Keith’s life. He just wanted to help.

Lance felt nearly as blank as the television staring back at him, a canvas of darkness and . . . nothing. He felt hollow. 

Curling up on the couch, Lance refused to move until his roommate got home and pried him off his lazy, heartbroken ass. 

Minutes later, that’s exactly what happened. 

Lance heard the jingle of him roommates keys in the lock before the door opened. When it did, Lance prepared himself for the worst. Hunk was always in a good mood after coming home from work, despite it being 7 in the morning, after he had been working all night long. Lance appreciated the upbeat attitude his roommate always had, but today he wasn’t sure he could handle it. 

“Hey, Lance!” Hunk bellowed as he entered their apartment. “I have some really great news.” Hunk maneuvered about the couch as Lance crumbled up into a tighter ball. Hunk was always great at recognizing when Lance was in a bad mood, and this morning wasn’t an exception. 

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” Hunk asked, kneeling down beside Lance, the care in his eyes shining brighter than ever.

Lance sighed, burying his face in a nearby pillow. He knew he was going to tell Hunk everything - he always did. There was no use in procrastinating the telling of his adventures the night before. 

Sitting up on the couch so Hunk could sit beside him, Lance hugged the pillow to his chest, resting his chin on it as he began explaining what had happened.

“So, I was working at the bar last night, and this guy comes in,” Lance started, “As soon as I saw him, I knew he had had a bad day - the guy looked like a wreck. So, he comes over to the bar, orders his drink and just starts gulping it down. He drank one right after the other, and I started to worry about him-”

“Naturally,” Hunk inserted. 

“-So I told him he should probably slow down, and wait a few minutes for the alcohol to kick in. After a while, he started getting giggly, and, well- really cute.” Lance pressed his face into the pillow, unable to hide the smile that began spreading over his lips. He knew Hunk was smiling, too, but wouldn’t allow himself to look at him. “So, he starts laughing at everything, and- it’s so contagious, and beautiful. Like a song I couldn’t get out of my head, but one that I didn’t mind playing on repeat. He . . . he started dancing with me. And I swear to Christ we were floating over the dance floor. It felt so amazing, Hunk. He was so amazing.” 

Lance melted into his best friend, his head resting on Hunk’s shoulders as he tightened his grip on the pillow. Hunk wrapped his arms around him, then asked, “So why do you seem so down? It sounds like you had an amazing night.”

“It was amazing. Everything about last night was perfect,” Lance said, “But then, he started crying. He was telling me about something bad that had happened, and it was so terrible. He just- broke, right in front of me. I held him, and let him cry, but I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make sure he got home alright, because I was really worried. I found out that he didn’t have a ride home, so I offered to take him home myself, but he said he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to go home, so . . . I brought him back here-”

“Here?” Hunk asked, then lowered his voice, “Is he still here?”

Lance shook his head. “No . . . he left a while ago. When he woke up . . . he saw me in the kitchen. I had read a letter that I found in his jacket. It was really private, and when he found out that I read it, he got really defensive. He started yelling. He was really angry. And, I tried to explain myself, but he just got even more mad. We yelled at each other, and- we were crying, and it was overall just a massively hot mess.”

Hunk smoothed a hand over Lance’s hair, running his fingers through it, calming him down. “I’m really sorry, Lance.”

Lance shrugged, a rather awkward movement to carry out when lying on someone’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I’m still kind of worried about him, but mostly, I’m just mad.”

They sat for a while, watching the blank television as Hunk smoothed circles on his best friend’s back. After a few minutes, Lance said, “You said you had some good news, though?”

“Oh! Yeah,” Hunk said. “Remember that guy I told you about at my work? The gay one?”

Lance sat up, suddenly interested in what Hunk had to say. “Yeah, what about him?”

“Well,” Hunk said with a smirk, “I was telling him about you, and he finally agreed to go out with you on a date.”

“What?!” Lance brightened up immediately, practically springing up from the couch in a burst of excitement. “For real?!”

Hunk nodded, a smile widening across his face. “Yeah, I told him I would get reservations set up as a restaurant for you guys. I’ll pay for the whole thing, so don’t even worry about it.”

Lance’s eyes lit up. “Oh my God, Hunk. You’re a goddess.”

Hunk lifted his hands up, gushing. “You’re too kind. I figured you could use a night out, especially with a nice guy. I always thought you too would hit it off, actually. I’ve been trying to get him to go out with you ever since you mentioned you thought you were bi.”

Lance sat back down on the couch, tucking his knees up. “So when are we going out, do you know yet?”

Hunk shrugged. “Whatever works for you, buddy.”

Lance nodded. “Alright. So . . . what’s he like?” Lance couldn’t help being curious. He had heard stories about Hunk’s coworker for weeks, yet, if he was being honest, wasn’t really interested until now. He had been so hung up over Nyma, he wasn’t sure if he would ever get over her. Now, after meeting some asshat and feeling a little spark of hope for himself, he was ready to dive back into the sea of fish. He had a date. With a boy. Lance smiled to himself. 

“Well, you’ve already heard of him, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lance sighed a little dreamily, resting his head back on Hunk’s shoulder, “But I want to hear it again.”

Hunk chuckled, leaning into his best friend. “Well, he always has this little grumpy pout on his face, like a puppy that didn’t get a treat he wanted. It’s actually kind of cute. He rarely laughs, but when he does, it’s magical, and completely contagious. He’s rather impulsive, but cares a lot about other people, yet refuses to admit it.”

Lance huffed out a small laugh, “Like some sort of humble superhero that gives the credit to someone else.”

“Exactly. The other night, he stayed up all night to clean out an angry customer’s pipes. He wasn’t even on the clock, and didn’t charge him any extra. He’s actually a really nice guy when yo get to know him, but he does have some walls up. You see, his mom left him before he even know who she was.” Hunk paused, and Lance wondered if it was because he wasn’t sure if he should be sharing this information. 

Lance nestled closer into his roommate, a careful gesture to let him know he wanted to hear more. 

Hunk took a deep breath, and continued, “I’m not really sure what happened to his father, but I think he also walked out on him after a while. He has some anger issues, but . . . he’s soft. He doesn’t know it, but he’s really soft.”

Lance frowned at that. It sounded like he could be hurting. Lance couldn’t imagine never knowing his mom . . . and having his dad walk out on him, well. He probably wouldn’t mind it that much, actually. But if his dad was all he had left, and he just disappeared one day . . . Lance wondered what sort of state of mind this boy was in. Was he hurting? Was he lonely? Or did he want to be alone?

Hunk continued, “He’s smart, but got expelled from high school in his senior year. I heard it was because he punched the principle in the face-”

Lance snickered. “He punched the principle? Ballsy.” 

“Yeah,” Hunk laughed, “He punched him in the face. I think his eye is permanently closed now.”

“Damn.”

“He’s pretty adventurous, and likes to get into trouble. Kind of a daredevil, but would do anything to make sure one of his friend’s is safe. I’m positive he would risk his life just to save someone he cared about. He’s really caring, he just . . . I don’t think he realizes it. He’s sort of blind to how amazing he really is.”

“Relatable,” Lance mumbled. 

Hunk rolled his eyes playfully, “Oh please, you know _exactly_ how amazing you are.” 

Lance gestured as if to flip his hair, despite it being only a couple inches long. “You’re damn right. I’m fucking awesome.”

They laughed together on the couch for a while before Hunk decided it was time for him to get some rest. 

“Sleep well, buddy.” Lance said, “I’ll just watch Netflix or something. Did you want me to grab you something to eat when you wake up?”

Hunk shook his head, “Nah, you know I like homemade cooking better, I’ll just make something. Would you want an omelette?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Omelettes it is. I’m heading to bed, try not to burn the place down.”

Lance winked, “You got it, pal.”

Left alone on the couch with his thoughts, Lance wondered if going out on a date with this coworker of Hunk’s was actually a good idea. Deciding that it was probably better than sulking around and thinking of that asshat from last night, Lance padded over to the kitchen to check the calendar they had hung up. Scanning over his work schedule, Lance fetched a pencil from a drawer and circled the 21st of October, the only Saturday this month he didn’t have to work at the bar. He’d check with Hunk later if that worked out with his date. 

Staring at the calendar, Lance pondered what this boy might look like. Hunk had told lots of stories. He’d told him about his personality, but he hadn’t said anything about his physical appearance. 

Could he be ugly?

No, Hunk wouldn’t do that to him. 

He tried to picture that cute little pout Hunk had described. A small frown, formed with thin lips, yet framed with a strong jawline. Maybe he had dark eyes, like a night sky after the sun had just set. Perhaps they were blue, like his. Or maybe they were green, like summer grass, and reflective golden light. Could he be blonde? He wondered how long his hair was. If it was longer, and he was a mechanic, he’d have to pull it up.

Suddenly, he was picturing Keith. 

Hair pulled back messily, and vibrant, impossibly violet eyes staring up at him through the lights. 

Lance shook his head. 

No. 

He wasn’t supposed to think about Keith. 

He was supposed to be thinking about Hunk’s coworker. A nameless, faceless man. With smudges of oil on his cheeks, and dirty, calloused hands. 

Maybe he was black. Dark, shimmering skin, with a pink mouth and large lips. A buzzed haircut, like a football player. Or maybe he looked like every stereotypical gay man. Sweater vests, shorts and sneakers. Maybe a high pitched voice, and singing in the shower.

How tall was he? Was he taller than Lance? 

He didn’t even want to consider that. 

Sighing, Lance allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts as he continued dreaming about what his date might be like. 

He was nervous, but excited.

**October 16, 2017**

Keith’s eyes still hurt. His heart continued to ache, and he felt like collapsing the majority of the time he was awake. He just wanted to sleep. Instead, he had to work. 

Wiping the glistening sweat from his forehead, Keith studied a 2001 Honda Civic. He had seen a lot of transmission failures like this, the only thing he had to do was get the owner to pay up so he could rebuild it. With his hands dirty at work again, Keith suddenly had a million other things on his mind, and was readily distracted with his work. The transmission hadn’t cost his customer much - just over a thousand dollars. Given the tools he needed, Keith was on his way to rebuilding it as he listened to his playlist blast from his mobile speaker. Their boss was pretty lenient when it came to personal things they brought to work from home, just as long as they got the job done and didn’t slack off. 

After a few hours, Keith was told to take his break. Smearing his hands on his coveralls and pulling his hair up into a more work-reliable style, Keith padded over to his desk. It was small, but Keith didn’t mind. They were told that they could personalize their desks how they see fit, but Keith never got around to it. He never really wanted to. It was simple, and practical. 

A plain white desk, with a couple drawers on each side. Paperwork and blueprints were strewn over the top, with snacks and sketches stuffed into the drawers. He opened one now, pulling out a Nature Valley granola bar and nibbling away at it. He hadn’t gotten much to eat today. In fact, he hadn’t been eating at all recently. 

Yesterday, he was supposed to go to dinner with the Holt family. Well, half of their family, at least. 

Matt and Samuel Holt had both been drafted, just as Shiro had. Colleen, the mother, and their little sister, Katie, had wanted to get together for the night. 

Keith didn’t see the point. What were they going to do, sit around, eat dinner and cry because both of their families had been ripped away? He could do that on his own. 

Still . . . Keith was starting to wonder how long he would sulk around before he finally came to terms with the fact that he’ll never see his brother again. 

Tossing the last bit of his granola bar in the trash can beside his desk, Keith sighed. 

He didn’t feel like eating. 

He didn’t want to. 

He wasn’t sure he could, with the way his stomach had been acting these past two days. It felt like a constant ache in his gut, like something was missing. It felt hollow, yet completely full. Full of twisted insides, and rearranged emotions. He felt that if he were to eat, he would just throw it up anyway. 

Besides . . . what was the point?

A buzzing from Keith’s phone brought him back to reality. 

Pulling the device from his pocket, Keith checked his new message - it was from Hunk. 

**Just Now - Hunk: Hey, man!! :D I have some really good news!!**

Keith allowed a small smile to flick across his face. He could really use some good news right about now. 

**Just Now - Keith: Yeah what is it**

**Just Now - Hunk: You know my roommate I was telling you about?! LANCE? And how you were gonna go out with him soon? Well - get this - HE SAID YES!! He was thinking maybe the 21st??**

**Just Now - Hunk: Cuz, he doesn’t have work that night. So, if you can, that would be AWESOME :D He’s still not sure where, though. Any ideas???**

“Unbelievable,” Keith muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, though, and found himself texting his coworker back. 

**Just Now - Keith: Yeah that sounds good I guess. Im not doing anything else that night. I dunno where wed go though. Thats up to him**

**Just Now - Hunk: Okay COOL!!! I’ll check and see if he has any ideas! I’ll let you know if he thinks of something :D And if YOU think of something, lemme know and I’ll get the work to him ;D**

**Just Now - Keith: Sure thing Hunk Ill let you know**

**Just Now - Hunk: :D**

A short breath of a laugh escaped Keith’s mouth. Even through text, Hunk could never stop smiling. Keith had always admired him for that; being able to see the good in everything. He wished he could do the same. Yet . . . every leaf he seemed to turn over felt as if it was crumbling in his hand. Autumn taunted him with beautiful colors that were quick to fade, and cool rivers that froze over too soon. He wanted that warm, peaceful breeze, but instead was given the frostbite of winter and snowstorms of December.

He wondered what season Hunk was living in. 

Spring, definitely. 

When flowers started to bloom, and beauty became real. When everything seemed a little too perfect, and the coffee always tasted right. Spring, with glistening rain that cleansed the air, and playful kids starting to dance outside again. 

Hunk was definitely Spring. 

Keith always thought Shiro was Spring, too, but a darker side of it. When the sky was overcast and unpredictable, but you knew that, eventually, the clouds would part and you’d see the sunlight again. Shiro was the kind of spring that took you by surprise, and made you realise it was your favorite season. 

Then he took another glance at his phone, and wondered what season Lance was. Hunk had said that he’s a people person. He loves first impressions, and was a bit of a romantic. That wasn’t much to go off of, but it sounded like Summer. 

Tucking his phone away, Keith sighed. This wasn’t the first time he had done this. He tended to get lost in his own mind, and began playing matching games with people and items, sometimes even places or times of day. In this case, a time of the year. 

He had an ongoing list, one that Shiro would complain was getting far too long. 

Yet, it continued. 

Hunk was Spring. He was also sunrises, breakfast, a toaster, and yellow. 

Shiro was also Spring. But he was black, the moon, midnight and shot glasses.

Matt was Summer, a golden retriever, noon, the dirty dishes and orange.

Allura was Winter, the color pink, a pressed flower, titanium and the sunset.

The bartender from the other night. He was glitter, and freedom. He was an open door, another chance. But he was also an immovable wall. A chasm, with no end. 

He was a black hole. 

And Keith was- well . . . he was Keith. He hadn’t really given himself any titles. He always just thought of himself as, well . . . red. He was messy, and bright. He was passion, and blood. He didn’t know what he was. He was just Keith. 

Hours later, in the comfort of his own home, Keith sat on the couch, with Navi curled up on his lap and X-Files playing on his television. He wanted to be focusing on the episode, but he had already seen it a million times. Besides, he was kind of in overdrive right now. 

The 21st. That was just five days away. What were they going to do? What he _want_ them to do? It had been months since Keith had been on a proper date. He wasn’t sure if he should suggest going out to dinner, or to a local concert. He wasn’t sure if they should go rock climbing, or just see a movie. 

Tapping his foot on the edge of his coffee table, Keith brainstormed some date ideas, and wasn’t ashamed to admit that, yes, he had some help from the Google. 

A picnic would be nice, but it was October, and it was getting chilly outside. 

The zoo was always an option - they could get hot chocolate to keep warm. But it smelled like dung, and that wasn’t really romantic. 

Is it supposed to be romantic???

Keith sighed. Art gallery? That was a possibility. There was a new park that just opened up down the street from his apartment - but since it was so new, there were always too many people there checking it out for the first time. Amusement park?

That could be fun. Keith had never really been to one before, despite being obsessed with roller coasters the majority of his life.

After a few minutes of not being able to come up with a counter-offer, Keith decided to text Hunk back. 

**Just Now - Keith: How about an amusement park? For the date**

Three episodes came and gone before he got a response from his coworker. It was nearly midnight, so Keith assumed Hunk was just getting ready to go to work. 

**Just Now - Hunk: OMG That sounds AWESOME!! I’ll let him know ASAP :D**

**Just Now - Hunk: OH! And I’ll buy them some time tomorrow. Lance will have them, so he’ll come pick you up? Don’t worry about the ride, or the tickets ;D**

**Just Now - Keith: Thanks hunk youre the best**

**Just Now - Hunk: :D :D :D**

**Just Now - Hunk: C’mon, no smile back? :D**

**Just Now - Hunk: I know you have it in you!! :D**

**Just Now - Hunk: C’mon, Keith! YOU HAVE A DATE!!! :D :D :D**

**Just Now - Keith: . . .**

**Just Now - Keith: :[**

**Just Now - Hunk: Really? You gonna be like this?**

**Just Now - Keith: Fine.**

**Just Now - Keith: :T**

**Just Now - Hunk: Sigh. It’s better than nothing X) Have a good night, man :)**

**Just Now - Keith: Have a good night XD**

**Just Now - Hunk: THERE IT IS :D :D :D**

**Just Now - Keith: Shut up**

**October 21, 2017**

Lance was unbelievably excited. 

He had a date tonight! And the fact that his mystery date was the one to chose to go to an amusement park rather than himself gave Lance a massive spark of hope. This guy sounded exciting! He punches authority figures, laughs like a fucking angel, likes roller coasters and is an alleged badass. 

Lance couldn’t wait. He felt like he was already in love. 

Fantasies began to form in his mind. Pictures him and this stranger sharing cotton candy on the ferris wheel, stealing kisses at the top and winning prizes for each other. Screaming at the apex of the roller coaster and laughing with glee. Stepping in line, but not minding the wait because they were sharing music with each other the entire time, asking each other questions and just getting to know each other. He wanted to get on some of the children rides - just because - and act like he was twelve again. He wanted to run around the park, like in the movies, holding hands and not giving a damn about what other people thought. He was so ready. 

“Hunk, I only have 20 minutes before I have to go pick him up!” Lance hollered from down the hall. “What the hell am I supposed to wear?!”

Lance fumbled through a pile of clothes on his floor, trying to find something decent. “It’s getting chillier outside, so I should probably wear long sleeves, right?” Lance asked, “Oh! But what if I wore something a little more revealing, and if he notices that I’m cold, he lends me his jacket? God, wouldn’t that be so cute? I could wear this!” Lance held up a simple blue V-neck, but then huffed and tossed it aside when he noticed a small stain on the sleeve. 

Hunk’s footsteps were heard as he came walking down the hall to offer some advice. “Lance, just wear whatever feels comfortable. Something nice, that fits you really well. Like that denim jacket and the white t-shirt. That’s cute, and it’s aesthetic. Besides, I think he’d really like it.”

“Really?” Lance asked, eyeing the denim jacket Hunk had mentioned. There were a few designer holes in the back, strategically placed by the designer. It looked beat up, but that was the idea. It _was_ a really cute jacket. 

“Okay,” Lance decided, grabbing the jacket from a separate pile on the floor, “But are you sure it will look okay with the white tee? I could wear a black one. Didn’t you say this guy was kind of edgy? Would he like the black one better?”

Hunk nodded, then started shaking his head, taking it back. “But the black one doesn’t compliment your skin tone as much, especially your neck. If you wore the white shirt with your black pants, I think it would be perfect.”

Lance shook his head, a smirk revealing itself. “Hunk, you’re a fucking genius and I love you. Denim jacket, white shirt and black jeans it is. I’m gonna look like a fucking Forever 21 model, dude.” Lance gasped, hopping over to his closet to fetch his checkered Vans. “And these!” Lance practically squealed, bouncing around while trying to get ready for his date. Slipping into the outfit Hunk helped him pick out, Lance eyed himself in the mirror, making sure there weren’t any surprise pimples that popped up overnight. Thank God, his skin was as clear as ever. 

“You sure I look good?” Lance asked, turning this way and that so as to see himself from every angle.

There was a small sigh from the doorway. “Of course, Lance. You always look good. I bet he’ll start drooling the second he sees you.”

Lance grinned at the thought. “Alright, well. I have the tickets, and I think I’m all ready to go. You think he’ll mind if I’m a tad early picking him up?”

Hunk shrugged. “It’s up to you now, buddy. I bought the tickets, now it’s in your hands. Take care.” 

Lance beamed, leaving his best friend with a hug before scurrying out the door in a fit of excitement. Counting his steps in each slab of concrete, Lance made it to his car in just over 30 steps - the usual. Spinning about after unlocking the car door, Lance waved goodbye to Hunk. 

“Thanks again for buying the tickets, pal! Enjoy your night to yourself!” 

Hunk smiled, waving back. “No problem, bud. Have fun on your date, I hope it works out well. And if it works out _really_ well, lemme know so I can get out of the apartment.” Hunk winked, causing a laugh to escape Lance. 

“You naughty rascal,” Lance teased, winking back at his roommate. “Will do, Hunk.” Stepping into his car, Lance started the ignition, pulled up his date’s address on his iPhone, then carefully backed out of their driveway. Following the directions provided by his phone, Lance reached his destination in just over 15 minutes.

It was a small apartment building, but looked comfortably lived-in. Dark bricks masked the outer walls of the estate, framed by white window sills here and there, including a matching front doors. A traditional, black shackled roof hung over the walls, complimenting the white fence that surrounded the building. Taking a deep breath, Lance stopped his car. 

He didn’t realize until now just how nervous he was. 

His stomach felt as if it was trying to crawl out of his throat. 

He hadn’t been on a date since - well, since he caught Nyma cheating on him. 

It was over four months ago, and he knew he should be over it by now, but he just couldn’t unsee her hands roaming over another man’s body. He couldn’t erase the picture of her mouth, locked tightly against another’s. It seemed impossible to forget the way her legs hugged him closer, then completely fell when she spotted Lance, falling to pieces in the doorway of her home. The way she gasped, and shoved him away, eyes wide and full of useless apologies. 

It seemed like that feeling would never go away. 

She tried to come up with excuses, one right after the other. But everything was a lie. Lance wasn’t sure he even heard the last words that fell from her lips, his ears were buzzing from anger, and the beating of his broken heart. 

He had just bought her flowers, for their anniversary. 

The same flowers that fell to the floor, never to bloom again. The floor, that caught Lance’s tears as he fled, trying to make sense of what had happened. 

Days passed. 

Weeks passed. 

Even months passed. 

She never said anything. 

Swallowing a bit of his nerves, Lance breathed in the chilly October air flowing in from his open windows. Fresh air. That’s what he needed. He needed a night out. 

He needed this. This date, with this stranger that Hunk had gone out of his way to set up with him. He needed to meet someone new. He needed to forget. Forget about Nyma, and all the other girls before her. He needed to forget about the broken pieces of his heart that they left behind. He needed to forget about her. And him, too. That guy from the other night, who, for some unexplainable reason, Lance hadn’t been able to get out of his head. 

The guy with raven-black hair and stunning, violet eyes. The guy with stupid, fingerless gloves, leather jacket and giddily drunken ways. 

Keith. 

He wanted to forget. Because if he didn’t forget, he would just keep worrying, and falling deeper and deeper. If he didn’t forget, he’d start forming fabrications of a relationship that was never going to happen. If he didn’t forget, his unrealistic expectations would just keep growing, and then they’d haunt him. 

So, yeah . . . he needed this. A fresh start. A clean slate. 

Soaking in yet another deep, refreshing gulp of air, Lance wiped off the sweat that had started to form on his palms. This was it - hopefully. A new beginning. A new chapter. 

Stepping outside of his car, Lance slowly made his way to the apartment door. 

Once he knocked on that door, a man would open it. 

A man who decided to go out with him, even if it was just a single date, and they had never met before. Behind that door was a man that, hopefully, would let Lance in. 

He knew his hopes were high . . . but he couldn’t help it. 

Nervously, Lance raised a hand, and knocked on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I haven't been here in forever! So sorry about the long wait, I hope it was worth it :) Lemme know what you think.


End file.
